


So Much Better Than a Man Like Me

by Squeaky



Series: FTH Fics [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, False Identity, Fandom Trumps Hate, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Memory Loss, Not Canon Compliant, Steve Rogers Feels, because why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 09:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19170871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky
Summary: Steve Rogers woke up from the ice with global amnesia. He doesn't remember anything from before, and he doesn't understand why the newest Avenger won't give him the time of day, or why he seems so familiar. Until the day he realizes that Zev Barnal is actually the Winter Soldier, Hydra's brainwashed assassin who tried to kill him. Steve confronts him, but with understanding and sympathy, and suddenly he and Zev are in a relationship. Steve couldn't be happier.Until the morning Steve wakes up with his memories completely intact and realizes that being the Winter Soldier was not the only thing that Zev Barnal was hiding...





	So Much Better Than a Man Like Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jadesymb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesymb/gifts).



> This was written for the 2019 Fandom Trumps Hate auction for the lovely [ Jadesymb.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesymb/pseuds/Jadesymb) Thanks so much for buying this fic! 
> 
> Jade wanted a Stucky identity porn fic with angst and a happy ending. Jade, I hope I've done your prompts justice! 
> 
> [ Taste_is_Sweet ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet) is, as always, the best beta a girl could ever ask for. This fic is better in all ways because of her. I'm very lucky
> 
> * * *

Phil Coulson was staring at him again.

Steve Rogers shifted uncomfortably in the chair in the conference room, trying to ignore Coulson's piercing gaze. The red-headed woman—Romanova—had told him that Coulson had a 'man crush' on him, which Steve didn't really understand.

Then again, there wasn't very much that Steve understood since they told him that he'd been frozen in ice after a plane crash for the last seventy-odd years.

"The doctors said you don't remember anything."

Steve swallowed, focussing his gaze on Coulson's thinning brown hair so he wouldn't have to see the sympathy in his blue eyes. "That's right."

"That must be very hard," Coulson said. "Your exploits in World War Two are legendary. I can't imagine not remembering them."

"Well, I can't remember them." Steve tried to smile. "So, I'll have to take your word for it." He had no idea if what SHIELD was telling him about his past was true or not, but this supposed connection he had to the war had been important enough for SHIELD to create a fake WWII hospital room for him to wake up in. It had felt strange and completely unnatural, but Steve had no idea if that was because what they told him about his past was a lie, or because everything just felt weird and unnatural. Trying to figure it out made his head hurt. 

"I managed to convince the brass to let you see this," Coulson said, handing him a manila file. "I'm hoping it will help bring something back.

"Thanks." Steve opened the file and studied the contents. It was about a WWII unit called the Howling Commandos that worked under the Allied Command. According to the file, the unit's existence was top secret. No one knew about them except for a select few in the highest levels of the military command and the governments of Britain and the United States. They were active from 1943 until the end of the war, and were primarily focussed on destroying the Nazis' research and development arm, called Hydra.

So far, the information was interesting but not ringing any bells. It was like being in history class—not that he could remember being in a history class—but he thought this would be what it was like.

That was the strangest part of his amnesia: the fact that he could remember _things_ , like schools and history, but he couldn't remember _himself_ in relationship to any of it. Like, he knew that people slept in beds and got up in the morning, got dressed and ate breakfast, but he couldn't remember ever sleeping in a bed from before he woke up, or getting up in the morning, or what kind of clothes he liked to wear, or of he preferred cereal to toast. His whole life was made up of disconnected facts with no emotional resonance to any of it.

Like looking at the pictures of the Howling Commandos in the file. He studied the pictures of them, together in a group and then separately attached to single-page memos about each of them. He saw himself in the group picture. He was the tallest and the only blond, but he couldn't make the photo more relevant than that.

There were six other men in the photo. Two were people of colour, and there was also one woman. He remembered enough to know it meant the Howling Commandos were highly unusual.

"It was your idea to integrate the unit," Coulson said softly. "You rescued Jones and Morita when the Commandos liberated the prisoners at Azzano, and Lieutenant Carter was one of the primary trainers of the Special Operations Executive which was where you two met. It was extremely forward-thinking for your time."

Steve nodded, staring at the picture. He remembered being told about Azzano in the days after he'd woken up from the ice but like everything else, he had no recall of being there. He knew that choosing to integrate his unit made the actions of his past self extraordinary, but he had no idea what had made him do it. He looked at the four white men in the picture. "Do you know why I picked them?"

"Barnes, Dugan, Denier and Falsworth were already Commandos with you, and part of the Azzano rescue, but I don't know what about them made you want to add them to your team orignally," he frowned. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Steve reassured him. It wasn't like he could expect Coulson to know Steve's mind better than Steve knew it himself. Although right now if Coulson knew anything, he'd know more than Steve. He flipped another page and came face-to-face with the photo and memo on James Buchanan Barnes. Steve's mouth went dry.

Barnes was stunning. He was easily the most handsome man that Steve had ever seen. In the photo he was wearing a military uniform, wide at the shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. His cap was set at a jaunty angle and he was smiling, rakish and sexy and like he didn't have a care in the world. The photo was black and white, so all Steve could tell was that he had dark hair, cut military short under his cap, and light eyes that shone with mirth. He looked like someone that Steve would've wanted to know.

Steve's heart thumped painfully in his chest. He _didn't_ know Barnes. He couldn't remember him. But oh, he wanted to. Everything about the man in the photo appealed to him, but he had no memory of him at all.

 _And I never will_ , he thought with devastating clarity as he saw the big red stamp across the bottom of the memo, as cruel and final as a stab wound. _Deceased._ Barnes had fallen off a train in the Alps in January of 1945 when he was only 28 years old. He was dead.

Steve closed the file.

Coulson was staring at him again, forehead creased. "Is everything all right?"

"It's just harder to look at than I thought," Steve said honestly. He didn't know how to explain the terrible sense of loss he felt looking at Barnes' picture, especially as he couldn't remember the first thing about him.

"Maybe some other time then," Coulson said. Gently he took the file back from Steve.

"Yeah, some other time," Steve lied. He knew he'd never look at it again.

* * *

The man from the bridge wasn't fighting.

The Winter Solider pulled his metal fist back and slammed it into the man's face. He felt the sick satisfaction of the crunch of bone beneath his knuckles, the way that blood oozed out of the cut; the pale skin around it already darkening.

Around them, the remains of the helicarrier screeched and moaned as it slowly tore itself apart. Flaming pieces of debris fell around them, crashing into the river far below. It wouldn't be too long now until the entire ship ended up in the water. 

"I'm not going to fight you," the man said, his words slurred by pain and injury. "Project Insight's been destroyed. Hydra's lost. Doesn't matter what happens to me now."

That was… _unacceptable_. The man should be fighting back. He _always_ fought back. When they were— (The Soldier shouldn't be thinking that. That thought couldn't exist. He didn't know the man from the bridge).

"No!" The Soldier's voice was muffled by the mask he wore. "Fight back!" He pounded the man's face again.

The man's torn mouth curled up into a faint smile. "If you wanted me to fight it probably would've been better if you hadn't shot me." A small bead of blood tricked out the side of his mouth.

It had been necessary for the Solider to shoot him. The man had been trying to disable the helicarriers and it was his mission to prevent that from happening.

(He wouldn't let himself think about why the man was still alive, when a well-placed bullet would have ended him well before he could disable Project Insight).

" _Fight back!_ " the Soldier screamed again. His fist connected with the man's cheek, marring the beauty of his face with another darkening bruise. (The man wasn't beautiful. He was _the Mission_. The Solider should not be noticing the curve of his bloody lips or the exquisite blue of the man's half-hooded eyes).

"I'm not going to fight you," the man repeated. His gorgeous eyes were shadowed by pain, dull and nearly lifeless. _They shouldn't look like that_ , the Soldier thought. They'd _never_ looked like that. Steve's eyes always had fire inside them, glowing blue like a flame.

The Soldier stopped with his metal fist pulled back to strike. His eyes widening above the mask.

He knew this man. _He knew him._ Peirce had lied to him. They _all_ had lied. This wasn't just _the_ _Mission_. He was Steve Rogers.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers. Leader of the Howling Commandos. The one who'd reached out a red-gloved hand to try to catch him when he was falling off the train. He was—

The helicarrier shook with another massive explosion and the glass supporting Steve's body shattered. The Soldier grabbed hold of a support beam as Steve fell, limp as a ragdoll.

"Steve," The Soldier whispered. A million images flashed through his mind: Steve laughing at something Morita said; Steve giving orders around a map spread out on a table; Steve leading them through a silent winter forest; Steve in his tent with his shirt off, his smile small and private; Steve standing with the Soldier on a cliff face, waiting for a train to come barrelling down the tracks several feet below. _I'm with you until the end of the line…_

It was nothing for James Buchanan Barnes to let go of the beam and follow Steve into the water.

* * *

Nick Fury was standing outside his hut.

"Why the fuck are you here?"

Fury raised his eyebrows. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" 

"We were never friends," Bucky spat. He went to cross his arms, then remembered he hadn't allowed the Wakandans to attach his new one yet, and let his arm drop. "Friends implies you might have given a damn about what happened to me _._ "

"Glad to see the Wakandan's treatment worked. I was worried." 

"Bullshit. If you'd been so _concerned_ you might've done something sooner."

"If I'd known you _existed,_ I might have," Fury said. "Besides _you_ shot _me_ , remember? I think we both got a reason to be pissed."

Bucky had to give him that. "Sorry."

Fury waved away the apology. "I don't take shit like that personally." He looked around them, his gaze taking in the small felt hut, the garden and the pen that held three goats. "Looks like you're settling in."

"The Wakandans have been really good to me." Bucky frowned as he said it. The idea didn't make him happy. He'd managed to find refuge in the African nation after the collapse of SHIELD, buying his way in with knowledge of how Hydra planned on murdering the Wakandan king in order to destabilize the country. They'd repaid him by fixing his arm and then fixing his mind, giving him a safe place to convalesce and meaningful labour. They'd done far more for him than his meager information had warranted. The truth was that he owed them.

Another debt he'd never be able to pay.

"I'd expect nothing less from them." Fury nodded. He wiped some sweat off his upper lip. He wore light pants and a short-sleeved t-shirt and he was still sweating, obviously not accustomed to the heat. Bucky had found it difficult at first, but adopting the local garb of loose fabric tunics helped. "You milking those goats?"

Bucky thinned his lips. "Get to the point."

"I'm here to make you an offer. A way for you to come back home."

Bucky blinked in surprise. "I don't have a home."

"You do. The United States is your home. Or don't you remember?" Fury's tone was sarcastic, and his words touched on how Bucky's memory had been wiped over and over again by Hydra for the last seventy years. Bucky knew that Fury was just trying to rile him up, but fuck it, it was working. 

"I remember the President calling for my immediate arrest." Bucky said sharply. "Not much motivation to go back there. Unless you think I _like_ being held prisoner."

Fury smiled. "What if I told you that you wouldn't be arrested?"

"Then I'd tell you you're a liar. I was the Winter Soldier. The most notorious Hydra assassin for the last seventy years. I'd be _lucky_ if I were only arrested. They'd probably shoot me on sight."

"No one's going to shoot you. People have come around to the fact that you've been a POW for the last seventy years. One that's been tortured and brainwashed. They know that none of the stuff you did was your fault."

Bucky dropped his gaze, guilt lancing through him. He remembered being pulled out of cryro, numb with cold and always so confused as to where and when and _why_ he was. But he never questioned what he was told to do. Never fought it. He had no recollection of the last time he even might have tried. "But I did it."

"Not by choice."

Bucky shrugged.

"Regardless of how you feel about it, the United States is ready to welcome you home with open arms." Fury spread his arms to illustrate. "All is forgiven."

Bucky raised his eyes to meet Fury's. "What's the catch?"

Fury arched an eyebrow. "Why does there have to be a catch?"

"Because it's you, and you work for SHIELD. There's always a catch." 

"No catch," Fury said. "Just an opportunity."

"And what's this ' _opportunity'?_ " Bucky said warily. He knew whatever Fury was offering him couldn't be good.

"You become a member of the Avengers."

He was right. It was _terrible._ Bucky's chest tightened. He shook his head "No. No way."

"You don't want to be an Avenger?"

It was so much more than that. "I don't want to work with Steve Rogers."

That made Fury blink his one good eye. "I thought you two were friends from the war."

Bucky's dark expression morphed into shock. As far as he knew, that information had been classified for years. Probably decades at this point. No one should have known that he and Steve had ever known each other. "How did you know that?"

"You'd be surprised what information my security clearance gets me. Still not sure why it's such a secret that you two were Howling Commandos together, beyond the fact that no one is meant to know anything about the Howling Commandos. That's some dark ops shit. But then I guess even I can't know everything."

Bucky took a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but he couldn't fully relax. The fact he and Steve were Howlies together was the only thing he'd be comfortable with Fury knowing. "What else do you know?" 

"Not enough to get why you don't want to work with Rogers. Especially since you were already on his team."

"I tried to kill him," Bucky said tightly. "When we were on the helicarrier together. I nearly beat him to death." It wasn't the only reason Bucky didn't want to see Steve again, but it certainly was part of it. A big part. Nick didn't need to know anything else.

"That before or after you shot him?"

"It's not funny!" Bucky shouted. " _I nearly killed him!_ How the hell do you expect it to be okay for him to work with me?"

"You tried to kill me and I'm right here."

"I think that Steve might take it more _personally_ than you did."

"Because his former bestie from the Howlies tried to kill him?" Fury asked blandly. "I hate to break it to you, but he won't remember."

Bucky gaped at him. "What?"

"Global amnesia. Something about his time in the ice wiped his memory. He can't remember anything that happened before he woke up in hospital."

"Shit," Bucky breathed. That was both the worst and best thing Bucky had ever heard. He hated the idea of Steve waking up with no idea of his past—he knew intimately how terrifying that was—but it would be so much better for him if he never knew about James Buchanan Barnes. "So, he doesn't remember…anything from before?"

"Nothing. No Howlies, no World War Two and certainly no Bucky Barnes," Fury said. "We've shown him stuff but it hasn't jogged his memory at all. It was like he was born fully-formed in the twenty-first century."

"Shit," Bucky said. "That's awful."

"It is what it is." Fury shrugged. "Boy's coping pretty well, all things considered."

"He snapped me out of my brainwashing," Bucky said softly. It was strange to realize that the man he'd been fighting hadn't had any better idea of who he was than Bucky did himself. "I recognized him. On the helicarrier." He took a breath. "Steve—Captain Rogers was the best of all of us. Just being around him…well, it made you try to do better. _Be_ better. But when I got taken by Hydra, I couldn't fight it. They brainwashed me and I couldn't shake it. And I killed so many people…" He dropped his gaze again, hoping Fury wouldn't know he was only telling him half the truth. "I don't deserve to be Steve's friend."

"So, don't be his friend," Fury said simply. "He won't remember you from the Howlies and he won't know that you tried to kill him on the helicarrier, so if you don't want to hang out with him, don't."

"Or I could stay in Wakanda."

"Herding goats for the rest of your life. But I doubt that's going to do a damn thing to get the red out of your ledger."

It was true. Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face before looking at Fury. "You sure he won't recognize me?"

Fury snorted. "Keep your hair long and keep the beard and your own mother wouldn't recognize you."

"I can do that." Bucky rubbed the scruff on his chin. He'd gotten used to having long hair anyway. "But then I need something from you."

"Shoot."

"I don't want you to call me Sergeant. Or James, or Bucky or _anything_ that might help Steve remember who I am." He could think of nothing worse than Steve remembering.

"Okay," Fury agreed. "So, what do you want us to call you?"

"Zev," Bucky said decisively. "It's my Hebrew name."

One of Fury's eyebrows rose. "You're Jewish?"

"Ashkenazi from Sokovia originally. My grandparents settled in Brooklyn during World War One." He smiled as he said it, proud that the memory came up so easily; proud that he'd regained his identity and his Tribe. He immediately thought of what it must be like for Steve, who'd also lost his history. Did he even know that he was the Catholic son of Irish immigrants? His smile slipped.  
"I'm guessing Barnes isn't your real last name," Fury said.

"It's Barnal." Something else he remembered.

Fury grunted in mild interest. "And Rogers wouldn't know this?"

"I never used my Hebrew name and my family's name's been Barnes since 1915. For sure Steve wouldn't know." He didn't bother to remind Fury that the time before World War Two had been rife with antisemitism, even in the U.S. His parents had been insistent that Bucky and his sisters not seem 'too Jewish.'

"And this is what you want? For real?" Fury asked him, "Steve not to know who you really are."

It wasn't what Bucky wanted at all. But there wasn't any other way. "Yeah." 

Fury shrugged again. "Your funeral. You still want to be the Winter Soldier?"

Bucky recoiled. "No!"

"Okay. You got another code name in mind?"

"White Wolf. That's what they call me here."

"I think they might be making fun of you, Zev." Fury smirked.

Bucky smirked too. "Shuri made it up, so you're probably right. Can you make my new uniform white?"

"Blood's really gonna show up on white."

"Then I'd better not get hurt."

"Probably a good idea." Fury gestured towards Bucky's left side with his chin. "Looks like you're gonna need a new arm."

"The Wakandans made me one. It doesn't look anything like the old one did."

"Metal arm's still pretty recognizable." Fury eyed him. "Not too many people running around with a metal arm these days."

"He never saw my arm." Bucky grimaced as he thought back to the helicarrier. "It was covered by my sleeves and a glove."

"Then it sounds like you're safe from jogging Rogers' memory," Fury said. "such as it is. When will you be ready to leave?"

"I need to say good-bye to Shuri and T'Challa, And find someone to take my goats."

"And maybe get a hold of that new arm you told me about," Fury said.

"That too." A slow smile spread across Bucky's face. He'd been content with the idea of living the rest of his life as a farmer in Wakanda, but he couldn't help the joy that flowed through him at the idea of walking the streets of Brooklyn again. "I'm going home."

"Damn straight," Fury said.

* * *

Natasha jumped at Bucky, her legs scissoring around his neck almost faster than he could see it. _Almost._ He laughed as he caught her thigh with his metal hand, forcing her legs open and lifting her harmlessly over his head.

She landed on her back and was up on her feet in the next instant, breathing heavily with a wicked smile on her face. "Not bad."

He grinned back, relaxing his stance. "You weren't bad eith—"

She kicked him twice in the abdomen before he could even move, finishing with a foot sweep that left him flat on his back and her knee pressed deeply into his chest. It fucking hurt.

"Don't get distracted, Zev." She leaned her knee into his sternum a bit harder to make her point and then moved off. "Your next opponent may not be so nice."

Bucky stayed on his back, wheezing. "That was nice?"

Natasha grinned. "I let you live."

A strong hand that definitely wasn't Natasha's appeared in front of his face. _Steve Rogers_. Bucky grimaced inwardly but took the offered hand and let Steve help him to his feet. "Thanks," he mumbled keeping his gaze down.

"Natasha's right about getting distracted," Steve said. "But to be fair, I've actually never seen anyone beat her in a fight but Clint, and I honestly think she lets him win."

"Lies!" Natasha called from the far end of the gym, where she'd started a fast-paced run on the treadmill.

Bucky smirked. He couldn't help glancing at Steve as he did. It was a mistake.

He'd clearly just returned from one of his morning runs. His skin was glowing with perspiration and his blond hair was dark with sweat. He was wearing a snug athletic t-shirt in a shade of blue that showed off his sculpted physique and made his eyes positively luminescent. His jogging pants fit tightly across his muscular thighs. He was just as beautiful as Bucky remembered.

He dropped his gaze.

"So, how are things, Zev?" Steve asked, voice calm and friendly and giving no indication that Steve had noticed that Bucky had been avoiding him for the six weeks since he'd started with the Avengers.

"Good," Bucky stammered. "Things are good." He was close enough to Steve that he could feel the heat from his body. It made him want to press himself closer. It made him want—

He cut off the thought ruthlessly. Steve wasn't for him. Not now, not ever. He had to remember that.

"I'm glad to hear it. Because I've noticed that you're not spending a lot of time with us during off hours. I wanted to make sure that things were going okay."

Bucky's face grew warm. He hadn't realized that Steve had been paying attention to his absences. But every movie night and team dinner meant more time being around Steve, and there was only so much torture one man could take. "I get along with everyone fine." It wasn't a lie. He liked Clint and Natasha a lot, and even he and Sam were beginning to find common ground. Tony was cool in small doses. It was only Steve that he couldn't be near.

"Good. That's good." Steve moved his head and Bucky knew it was an attempt to get Bucky to make eye contact. Bucky kept his eyes firmly on the floor. "I hope that means you're going to be making more of an appearance at movie night?"

"Sure," Bucky said. "I'm going to take a shower." Before Steve could react, he fled out of the gym and up to his quarters on the Avengers floor of Stark Tower.

He wasn't going to go to movie night, and maybe he wasn't going to go to the gym anymore if Steve Rogers was going to be there.

"I should've stayed in Wakanda," Bucky muttered. He turned the shower to cold.

* * *

The next movie night came and went and once again Zev hadn't shown up.

Steve had swallowed his frustration and did his best to pretend that he hadn't noticed, that he thought the movie was great and he had a fantastic time.

It was all a lie. He couldn't remember what the hell had been playing and he'd spent the entire time watching the door, hoping that Zev would show up. But he hadn't, and Steve was left wondering why yet again.

Steve raked his hand through his hair, feeling the silky strands run through his fingers. He'd let his hair grow in the past few months, tired of the short haircuts that SHIELD had given him. Apparently, he'd had his hair military short for his entire life, even before he'd become a soldier in WWII. He'd seen the pictures after he'd woken up from being in the ice, but it was like looking at someone else. He'd had no feeling about the man in the pictures with the short hair at all. It was an easy choice to start growing it.

Knowing what to do about Zev wasn't nearly so simple. He took a deep breath and rapped on the door.

Clint opened it a moment later. "Oh, hey, Cap."

"Steve, please," Steve said as he followed Clint into his apartment. "I don't really remember being a Captain."

"Right, I forgot," Clint said, then grinned at his inadvertent pun. He gestured to the couch and Steve sat. "Beer?"

Steve nodded and Clint went off to the small kitchen. Clint's apartment was decorated in shades of black, grey and dark purple, making it feel intimate and cozy with a sense of fun. There were several pictures on the wall of his sister and her three kids at their farmhouse, and a few more of Clint and his boyfriend Phil Coulson, who was one of the first SHIELD agents Steve had ever met.

Clint had clearly been anxious when he'd told Steve he was gay. He'd searched Steve's face for some kind of reaction, and then visibly relaxed when he didn't see it. He'd been open and friendly with Steve ever since.

Steve had learned that people were really uptight about same-sex relationships in the time period he'd grown up in, but he couldn't find anything in himself that had a problem with it. In fact, his first thought when Clint had told him had been relief. He hadn't really taken the time to examine that feeling yet, but he hadn't forgotten.

"I've got Labatt's Fifty and Budweiser. What's your choice?"

"Whatever," Steve replied. He'd discovered that he preferred batch-brewed craft beer, but Clint would drink anything with an alcohol content. He resigned himself to the bitter taste of the commercial brew.

"Labatt's Fifty it is!" Clint plonked the bottle down in front of him. "My father used to drink this stuff."

Steve popped the cap with his thumb, a small benefit of his super-human strength. "I'll probably like it, then."

Clint smirked before leaning back and taking a pull of his beer. "So, Steve, what brings you to my humble abode?"

 _Zev._ Steve thought immediately. He cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed.

"Let me guess," Clint said after Steve hadn't responded for a bit too long, "you're wondering about the new guy."

"How'd you know?"

"I see better from a distance. And I've seen how Zev tries to avoid you. What's up with that?"

"I wanted to ask you," Steve sighed. He held the bottle loosely between his legs.

"Ask me? Why?"

"Because you get along with everybody. And I thought maybe you could help."

"Huh. Well, I'll take that compliment, but I'm not really sure how to help you." Clint took a pull of his beer. 

"Zev doesn't like me and I don't know why," Steve said quickly before his nerves failed him. "And since you get along with everyone, I was hoping…"

"That I'd tell you what you were doing wrong?"

"Exactly!" Steve exhaled in relief that Clint had understood so readily. "So, what am I doing?"

Clint screwed up his face, thinking, before he slumped back on the couch. "I got nothing."

"Really? But—"

"You're a great leader and a really solid friend," Clint interrupted. "I mean, you're not perfect. No one is, but I can't really think of anything you're doing that could've pissed Zev off."

"Then why doesn't he want to spend any time with me?" Steve hated the plaintive sound in his voice. "I just want to get to know him."

"No idea." Clint shrugged. "But maybe it's time for you to ask him?"

"Ask him why he doesn't like me." Steve scowled. "That sounds effective."

"It's better than sitting on my couch wondering what the hell's going on."

"You make a good point." Steve took another mouthful of his beer, swallowing quickly so he wouldn't make a face at its taste. He wished that he could get buzzed enough so the prospect of that conversation with Zev didn't feel so onerous.

"You know, you don't actually have to talk to him," Clint added, perceptive as always. "The team is working well together, and he follows your orders without complaint. Maybe it doesn't matter if the two of you aren't friends."

"Probably not," Steve conceded. Clint was right. Zev hadn't done anything to make Steve feel like the team's cohesion was in jeopardy. Zev was a consummate soldier, excellent at taking initiative and orders, both.

He just wished they could get along.

* * *

The sniper's gun glinted in a stray beam of sunlight and Bucky aimed and fired within the next heartbeat. The lifeless body of the sniper landed almost at Steve's feet from where he'd been hiding in the tree canopy above.

Steve started, then looked back at Bucky, giving him a short salute in obvious thanks for saving his life.

Bucky grimaced. He didn't need Steve's thanks. He needed Steve to pay _more fucking attention_ to what was around him. He was lucky that Bucky was on his six, scouring the surroundings as Steve led them forward, oblivious as always.

It was just like the fucking War. All over again.

The Avengers were on the path of a supposed Hydra base, and dollars to donuts they'd just found one if the dead sniper was any indication. It probably meant there were a few booby traps around and probably some IEDs as well, if they were lucky.

Clint and Natasha were doing their spy thing and moving like they were invisible, while Sam and Tony were taking in the scenery from above. Bruce had asked to sit this one out, which was fine because it was probably better if a huge green rage machine didn't trash this section of the German forest, but with Thor doing royal stuff in Asgard, it meant that he and Steve were the only real muscle. And Steve wasn't paying the right kind of attention.

Case in point, there were at least seven Hydra soldiers in full black gear bearing down on their position. Steve saw them about a second after Bucky did, which okay, wasn't that bad, but it was well after one of them went down with an arrow through his neck.

Clint leapt out of the tree he was holed up in, right onto another Hydra soldier's back. Natasha threw herself at another one, showing some incredibly impressive moves that Bucky wished he had time to admire. But there were still four more soldiers and they were coming up way too quickly and Steve was by himself in the middle of it. Bucky frowned. _Typical._ He leapt down from his nest as well, landing beside Steve then immediately engaged with his own Hydra bad-guy and what appeared to be the guy's souped-up armour if the faint _whirring_ sound was any indication. It made him big, and strong and _fast_ and the asshole got in a few cheap shots before Bucky began to figure shit out.

Of course, the fact that Steve _pushed right in front of him_ wasn't helping any. Steve's helmet covered half his face, but it didn't hide how pissed he looked that someone was pounding on one of his men. He started to take on the big guy, trading punch for punch, which would've been great except for the fact it was _Steve_ getting punched and Bucky hadn't liked that on a good day.

But Bucky knew better than to try to get in front of Steve. Instead he stood with him, back to back, to protect him and to keep off the three Hydra soldiers that were left, all wearing that souped-up armour. He could hear Natasha's voice in his ear, calm but urgent as she called Tony back for air support. He couldn't really see her from where he was now, but every once in a while, her hair would flash red in the corner of his eye as she dealt with another threat. Very impressive.

He'd forgotten how incredibly _easy_ it was to fight with Steve like this, how natural. Steve noticed he was there all right, and just like the good old days, he started maneuvering his dance partner around so that Bucky was able to help take him out. He could predict what Steve was going to do, which meant he knew when to go left when Steve went right and when to go down when Steve went up. The Hydra operatives didn't have a chance. It was only minutes before they were on the ground, armour smoking like Dernier with a fresh pack. 

Steve was breathing heavily and grinning like the maniac he was. He turned and met Bucky's gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with the rush of victory. Bucky knew he should drop his eyes; keep up the pretense that he didn't know Steve and was never going to, but this time he couldn't look away. Steve was gorgeous: wired and intense and so _fucking_ _beautiful_ that Bucky thought he'd die if he couldn't touch him.

Steve opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and Bucky found himself swaying towards him, close enough that he could touch; reach out and grab one of those ridiculous straps that held his shield and pull him in—

"We found the entrance to the base," Natasha panted in his ear.

Steve's expression schooled itself back into Captain mode. "Thanks, Natasha," he said. He looked at Bucky. "Let's go."

The moment, whatever it had been, was lost, and Bucky was glad. He needed to stay away from Steve Rogers. He needed to remember that.

* * *

Tony looked up from where he'd been wielding something onto something else and pushed the eye shield to the top of his head, mussing up his dark hair. There was stubble marring the otherwise clean lines of his goatee and rings under his dark brown eyes, which made Steve suspect it'd probably been a while since Tony had been to bed. "What's up, capsicle?"

Steve made a face at the nickname but didn't say anything. He knew it was Tony's way of showing affection, even if it didn't feel that affectionate. Besides, it wasn't as if being compared to a frozen treat was even that inaccurate. He had been in ice for over seventy years.

"I want your help with something." Steve moved so that he was leaning against Tony's workbench, hands wrapped around the edge.

Tony blinked. "You want _my_ help?"

"Yeah." Steve nodded. He smiled. "Is that so strange?"

Tony gave him a head-tilt and one-shoulder shrug combination. "Its just, after you didn't call me when you were trashing Hydra, I thought you weren't interested in my help."

Steve just managed to not roll his eyes. "We've been over this, Tony. I didn't involve any of the Avengers because I didn't want Hydra to go after you as well. I needed to know you'd have finished what I started if Hydra got to me first."

"Hydra _did_ almost get to you first! You almost died on that helicarrier."

"But I didn't. And if I had—" Steve raised his hand to stop Tony's protest. "If I had, I know you would've gone after Hydra for me. I knew you had my back." 

"That's really why you didn't ask? Because you wanted me to avenge you if you'd been killed?"

"That's why we're called Avengers, isn't it?" Steve smirked. "Look, Tony. I know you and I didn't have the best start, but I consider you one of my closest friends. One of the very few people I trust. I didn't involve you because I didn't want to risk you getting hurt. You have to believe that." It wasn't anything he hadn't said to Tony before, but he'd say it a hundred times if it meant that Tony finally understood.

Tony eyed him. "You didn't expect to live through that, did you?"

Steve immediately flashed back to the fight he'd had on the bridge, and how sure he'd been that the masked man was going to kill him, and how willing he was to let the man do it. Maybe it'd been the two bullets that had torn through him, or maybe it'd been something else, something darker that Steve didn't want to look at. But for whatever reason, he hadn't had it in him to fight any longer. He'd expected to be terrified, waiting for the final blow. But all he'd felt was relief. "No," he said honestly. "I didn't."

"Shit." Tony took off his visor and swiveled in his chair until he was facing Steve completely. He crossed his arms, showing a smear of dirt across the back of his wrist. His expression was uncharacteristically serious. "I'm glad you lived."

"Thanks." Steve smiled. He wasn't sure how he actually felt about it. It was probably time to change the subject. "So, help?"

"Yes, for sure. What can I do you for, Cap?"

"It's about Zev."

"Zev? You mean our very own member of [Paw Patrol?](http://pawpatrol.com/)"

"Yeah," Steve grinned. He got that reference, thanks to numerous chats with Clint about the television preferences of his sister's kids. He paused, trying to think of how to put his issue into words. "I feel like I know him."

Tony sat up. " _Know_ him? Like, you _remember_ him?"

Steve immediately shook his head. "I don't remember him. I don't remember _anything_ from before I went into the ice. I doubt that will ever change."

"It's only been a couple of years. There's still a chance."

"That's what Sam always says," Steve sighed. "But after all this time it's hard to hope for it, you know?"

"Yeah," Tony said, then: "Well, not really, because one of my problems has always been my eidetic memory and the fact I can't forget anything. But yeah, I get what it's like to not know if you should hope for something anymore."

There was a wealth of pain in that simple statement which Steve felt extremely ill-equipped to try to handle. "Yeah," he said instead. "I know I don't remember Zev, because I _can't._ He's way too young to for me to have met him from before, anyway."

"Although stranger things have happened," Tony pointed out. "Like, well, you."

"True. But when I say I know him, I don't mean _him._ I mean…" _His eyes._ When they were looking at each other on the battlefield, Steve couldn't help but feel a flash of recognition. "The way he fights," Steve said instead. It wasn't a lie. "There's something about it that feels really similar to me."

"Huh." Tony rubbed his goatee. "Similar because you've fought with him before? Or fought _him_ before?"

"That's it!" Steve snapped his fingers. "It's been driving me crazy but I think that's it. I know how he fights because I feel like I've fought him before." _And saw his eyes as we fought._ "Does that make sense?"

"Its not like the Avengers have had a shortage of sparring partners." Tony shrugged. "But why would he go from fighting you to fighting _with_ you? At minimum that seems really indecisive."

"I don't know." Steve thought back to the Avengers' most recent battle, and the way Zev had seemed to instinctively know how to move with Steve to maximize their abilities. How easy it'd been to fight with him, like he'd been doing it forever. "But apparently that's what happened."

"I'm so shocked that SHIELD hasn't told you anything about it," Tony said sarcastically. "I mean, it's not like you're our team leader or anything. No need to tell you if Zev is actually an enemy-turned-ally."

"I'm sure it's not that nefarious," Steve said. But he couldn't help but wonder if Tony might be right. It wasn't that long ago that Nick's keeping secrets had nearly cost Steve his life. It was completely possible they could be doing it again.

Tony raised his eyebrows. "You totally do think it's that nefarious."

Steve pressed his lips together. "Maybe I do."

"Leave it with me. I'm not saying that I've kept my hack operating in SHIELD's databases, but I'm not saying I didn't, either. If there's any information to be found on Zev 'White Wolf' Barnal, I'll find it."

"Thanks, Tony." Steve stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "I appreciate it."

"You know I have your back," Tony said.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I do."

* * *

He was on the helicarrier, lying on his back, his face a painful, broken mess as the Winter Soldier slammed his fist into his cheek over and over again.

"Fight back!" The Winter Solider screamed, punching him under his eye. Steve felt the bone crack, the jagged flare of pain that exploded through his face and down his neck.

"I'm not going to fight you," Steve slurred. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His body wasn't obeying his commands. His blood dripped onto the glass underneath him, taking his life force with it.

He was going to die there, bloody and beaten by Hydra's fearsome weapon. But instead of fear, Steve felt relief. It was going to end now, here. Half a mile up from the Potomac River. He wouldn't have to pretend anymore, be a half-man living a half-life…

The Winter Solider pulled his fist back as if to strike, but then left it there like he'd forgotten to use it. His eyes widened above his dark mask, pale blue like a winter sky…

Steve's eyes snapped open, heart hammering.

"Holy shit," he whispered in the dark.

* * *

The fight had been short and fucking disgusting. The genetically altered sea creatures that had swarmed over Coney Island hadn't been very resilient, but they'd made up for it with the way they exploded on impact, foul-smelling innards spraying everywhere.

Sam and Tony, high-flyers that they were, had managed to avoid getting a drop of goo on them. Natasha and Clint used their long-range projectile weapons and managed to avoid it, too. Only Bucky and Steve had gotten up-close-and-personal with the bloated bottom-feeders and had ended up covered in the stuff.

Needless to say, they'd been given a lot of space on the Quinjet ride home.

"I reek," Steve moaned as he and Bucky entered the decontamination bays of Avengers Tower. It was only the two of them in the large space, bare feet slapping softly against the highly-polished concrete floors. They'd stripped out of their ruined uniforms in the anteroom, where one of Tony's near-sentient robots would collect them for disposal. Because Tony had been involved in the design the air was heated to a comfortable temperature and the shower was already running as they approached, making an extremely uncomfortable session as comfortable as possible.

But Bucky was still with Steve, completely naked.

He was forcing his eyes to stay forward, to not notice every ridge and ripple of Steve's incredibly muscular frame as the man moved; as sleek and graceful as a tawny mountain lion.

And fuck, Bucky must have it bad if he was using words like _sleek_ and _tawny_ even in his own mind.

Bucky bit the lining of his cheek hard enough to hurt. Anything to stop from popping a boner merely from gazing on Steve's perfect form. But it wasn't just seeing Steve's body that was causing him problems; It was _remembering_ it. The way it felt beneath his hands, the way Steve moved when Bucky touched him, the moans Steve would make when Bucky—

"I know you were the Winter Solider."

Any erection Bucky might have had immediately withered at Steve's words. He turned to face Steve, eyes wide. "What?" 

"The Winter Solider," Steve repeated as if the only problem was that Bucky actually hadn't heard him. "I know that it was you. That Hydra kidnapped you and…and tortured you. Made you do that."

"Okay," Bucky said slowly. He wasn't sure where Steve was going with this. Nothing about the other man gave any sense of hostility, and it would certainly be hard for Steve to hide any muscle tensing considering he was nude. Bucky shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and curved his fingers, just in case.

"And I just wanted to tell you that I don't blame you. For attacking me. In the helicarrier." He sounded incredibly earnest. "I don't blame you for that." 

That was surprising. Bucky stared at him. "You don't?"

"No." Steve shook his head. "They _made_ you do that, Zev. It wasn't you."

Bucky almost winced at Steve's use of his fake name. Zev wasn't really him, either. "Sure seemed like me, when I put my fist through your face and all." His laugh was mirthless. 

"It wasn't you," Steve repeated. "They _made_ you do that. It wasn't your fault."

"Why are you telling me this?" Bucky asked. What he wanted to say was, _why are you forgiving me something so unforgivable?_ But he couldn't get his mouth to say the words.

"Because you've been avoiding me, and I thought it might have something to do with that. So I wanted to let you know so maybe you wouldn't avoid me anymore?" Steve rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, flushing a delectable shade of pink all the way down to his chest.

Bucky swallowed against a throat gone suddenly dry. The man was too fucking gorgeous for his own fucking good. He gestured at their mutual nakedness. "And you wanted to have this conversation _now?_ "

"It's the first time we've been alone together since…well, ever." Steve shrugged. "Seemed like a good time."

Bucky had to give him that. He had done an amazing job of avoiding the captain as much as humanly possible when they both lived in the same building and worked on the same team. He took a step closer. "I have been avoiding you."

"You don't need to, Zev," Steve said quietly, gaze direct and blue eyes as beautiful and guileless as Bucky remembered. "I don't blame you for anything that happened."

"But I shot you," Bucky immediately protested. "I _beat_ you. I nearly beat you to _death_ —!"

"It wasn't you," Steve cut him off. "The man I know would never hurt me like that."

"But I did it. I remember it. I _remember_ punching you in the face! The feel of your bone breaking against my hand. I _remember!_ How can you say that it wasn't me when I remember all of it?"

"It wasn't you," Steve repeated. "You were brainwashed. Not in control of your own body. I dreamed…I _remembered_ fighting with you in the helicarrier, and I asked Coulson to show me the files. It was…" He cleared his throat, eyes suspiciously shiny. "It was awful, Zev."

Something lurched in Bucky's chest. "Are you crying?"

"It's just hard to think of one of my team—someone I care about—being tortured like that." Steve wiped the side of his hand over his eyes. "God. Fucking Hydra. I can't even remember fighting them in the war but I fucking _hate_ them."

"Me too," Bucky said vehemently. He licked his lips. "You care. About me?" He didn't know what he was doing, playing with fire like that. But he was standing with Steve, _naked,_ and there was really only so much a man could take.

And he missed Steve. So goddamn much. It was like every torture he'd ever been put through to stay away from Steve like that. Worse, even. And now Steve knew he'd been the Winter Solider and didn't hate him; said he _cared_ about him although Bucky would be the first to admit he didn't deserve even a fraction of Steve's affection. But for the life of him, he couldn't imagine being able to keep away from Steve for even one second more.

"Yeah, I care about you, Zev," Steve said softly.

"I care about you, too." Bucky moved closer. Close enough that he was right on the edge of Steve's personal space. Close enough that he could reach out and touch if he wanted to.

And oh yeah, he wanted to.

"I thought you hated me." Steve's smile was tremulous.

"I could never hate you, Stevie." 

"Stevie?" Steve repeated, smile growing wider. "I've never been called that be—"

Bucky leaned in and kissed him.

He hadn't realized he'd moved; hadn't thought he was going to until his lips contacted Steve's. He froze, waiting for Steve to push him away and probably give him the pounding that he so richly deserved. To his surprise, Steve melted against him. His big hands went into Bucky's hair and he crushed their lips— _their whole bodies_ —together like Steve was trying to make the two of them one.

Which was actually an idea that Bucky could totally get behind.

He moaned against Steve's mouth, his lips parting and allowing Steve's tongue to enter. Steve was just as aggressive in his kissing as he was in his fighting, and Bucky found himself gripping onto Steve's shoulders for dear life as Steve's mouth possessed his. Steve was about two inches taller than Bucky, which meant Bucky's erection rubbed nicely against the V of Steve's legs, and Steve's erection pressed into Bucky's stomach. The friction felt incredible and Bucky moaned again as his arousal skyrocketed. Steve grabbed his ass, pressing their bodies together even more tightly, his hips moving against Bucky's. Steve smelled like rotted fish, but his mouth tasted like honey and his skin felt like velvet stretched over steel. It was sexy and _filthy_ and Bucky hadn't been this turned on since the War….

His orgasm was as sudden as it was incredible. White-hot pleasure pulsed through him, hard enough for him to see stars. His knees buckled and he only managed to stay upright by holding onto Steve, who was also trembling through his release.

"That was…" Steve stuttered. "That was…"

"Yeah." Bucky grinned, running a hand through his hair. Steve's skin was pink, his mouth swollen with their kisses and beard burn and Bucky couldn't imagine anything more gorgeous. Gently, he traced the delicate skin of Steve's bottom lip with his thumb. "You're so beautiful."

The pink colouring Steve's skin darkened. "You are too, Zev."

Bucky's smile faltered. He'd forgotten. His lust-fueled brain had completed forgotten that Steve didn't know who he really was. That he didn't _remember_ a goddamn thing that had happened prior to waking up in the twenty-first century. Steve thought he'd been making out with Zev Barnal, former Winter Soldier and now member of the Avengers. He had no idea who Zev really was, or what they used to mean to each other.

Steve was looking at him intently. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Bucky pulled the corner of his lips up into a semblance of a smile. "I'm just thinking we should probably shower now. The smell is really bad."

"Good idea." Steve grinned at him. They walked towards the steaming spray. "And maybe after we're clean, I could take you out to dinner?"

 _He wants to date._ Bucky ducked under the shower before Steve could see his look of dismay. He'd love to date Steve; love to hang out with him like they did in the old days, talking about everything and nothing on those rare moments when they weren't on a mission. But everything Steve thought he knew about 'Zev' was a lie. How could Bucky even think about dating Steve if Steve didn't know who Zev really was? And how could Bucky admit he'd lied without ruining everything?

He opened his mouth to tell Steve 'no,' to tell him flat out that their intense make-out session was a mistake and that they shouldn't do it ever again. "Yeah," he said instead. "I'd like that."

"Great!" Steve's smile lit his whole face.

Bucky smiled back, trying to pretend he wasn't making the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

Dinner with Zev was great, as were all the subsequent dates that followed.

Now that Zev wasn't actively trying to avoid him, he was letting Steve see his true self, and Steve was loving every minute of it.

Zev was whip smart, which was something that Steve already knew, but he didn't know how incredibly funny Zev could be, or how thoughtful, or insightful, or kind. He didn't know how much he'd come to relish the subtle looks of commiseration Zev would give him during their mission briefings, or the small touches they'd share while getting on their uniforms. Or the way their thighs would press together when they sat side-by-side in the Quinjet. Or the way Zev would lean against him, boneless and trusting, as he slept on the way home.

 _I love you_ had bubbled up in Steve's throat more than once, barely silenced by the slamming of his tongue against his teeth. Steve knew he loved Zev, had probably loved him since the moment they'd had that first real conversation in the decontamination shower. But he could feel the reluctance in the other man, the way that Zev was still holding himself back.

 _It's not the right time,_ Steve told himself yet again as they lay in bed together, bodies cooling after another night of passionate lovemaking. Zev was already asleep, his back pressed tightly to Steve's chest. Steve's arm was draped over him, feeling the rise and fall of Zev's ribs as he breathed.

Steve pulled the blanket up over them both, smiling softly as Zev murmured something unintelligible in his sleep.

"I love you," Steve whispered against Zev's hair, wishing that he could say it out loud. He closed his eyes.

* * *

Bucky had to tell him.

It was agony living like this, knowing that Steve didn't know who he really was; knowing that every time Steve looked at him with such blatant affection, Steve thought he was looking at someone else.

It was just so difficult to figure out how to tell Steve he'd been lying from the start, or find a good time to break the news.

Truthfully, no time had been good, just like there was no good way to say it. How the hell was Bucky supposed to admit he was exactly the kind of no-good asshole Steve thought he _wasn't_ , and not expect to break Steve's heart? _Fuck_ , Bucky didn't want to lose Steve.

He was curled on the couch next to him, Steve's arm around his shoulder and Bucky's head on Steve's chest. They were watching a movie with the other Avengers, one that wasn't doing a damn thing for Bucky's anxiety. It had been Sam's turn to choose the movie, and with unnerving accuracy he'd chosen one who's plot was like a funhouse mirror-image of Bucky's plight. Only in this version, Bucky was a cancer survivor pretending to be from New Zealand when he wasn't, and Steve was a journalist, unaware that he was being wooed by a liar.

Not that Bucky was really paying much attention to anything except the slow churn of guilt destroying the lining of his stomach.

"I don't get it," Tony said around a mouthful of popcorn, interrupting Bucky's thoughts. "Russ survived cancer! Why is it such a big deal for him to tell Emily who he really is?"

"The guy's name is Gus, not Russ, and I think the fact the movie's called 'Don't tell her it's me,' might be a clue," Sam said wryly.

"Besides, people hate liars," Clint said from his perch on the back of the couch. He snagged a handful of popcorn from Tony's bowl. "Not all people!" he squawked as Natasha threw her unopened can of soda at him, causing him to tumble off and land heavily on the floor. "I love liars. Especially red-headed ones," he moaned.

"Don't be so hard on Clint," Steve said to Natasha as he laughed. "Most people aren't agents of a super-secret government organization who need to lie for a living."

"Yeah," Clint poked his head up over the couch. "And to those non-agent people, honesty is very important."

"So, Gus thinks he can't tell Emily because she'll hate him for lying?" Tony asked. "But she's going to hate him for _not_ telling her, too."

"That's the conflict." Sam nodded. "Because he's lied from the beginning, he's damned if he does and damned if he doesn't."

"He should keep lying," Natasha said with certainty. "It's obvious Emily loves the person she thinks he is, and she's happy. There's no reason to change that."

"I think he should tell her," Steve said. "It's not right for him to keep this from her."

"But she'll break up with him," Natasha said. "How will that help anything?"

"It will help that he's not lying to her anymore," Steve said.

Bucky moved so that he could see Steve's face. "Do you think that she might forgive him for lying? If he had a good enough reason?" He was proud that his voice didn't shake when he asked the question, even though his heart was pounding. 

"Maybe," Steve said. "But I think it would be very hard for her to forgive him, knowing that their whole relationship was built on lies."

"Oh," Bucky said. Steve kissed his temple and then gently resettled him onto his chest. Bucky lay there, nestled in Steve's arms, heart hammering even worse.

As soon as he told Steve, he'd lose him. He was just as damned as Gus Kubicek was in the movie. Only there was no way that Bucky would get a happy ending.

 _I have to tell him,_ Bucky thought. He couldn't keep pretending to Steve that he was someone he wasn't. Steve deserved to know the truth. _And I'll tell him. I promise._

"Hey," Steve's breath was warm and soft against his ear. "I can think of better things to do then watch the end of this movie."

Bucky shivered. "I'd like that."

 _I'll tell him,_ Bucky told himself again as Steve led him by the hand back towards their shared quarters. _Just not tonight._

* * *

Steve dreamed of the War.

He was on a train, speeding down a track somewhere high up in the mountains. He could feel the freezing air, the way it seeped through the train's walls, pressing itself against the bare skin of his cheeks.

But right now, his heart was pounding too fast for him to be cold. Bucky was trapped in the other carriage, being fired on by a Hydra soldier. Bucky was firing back, every shot deliberate and careful, but the Hydra soldier had more ammunition and therefore more time. Steve watched as Bucky fired his last shot and crouched down behind some ammunition boxes to hide, expression tight with fear.

Steve slammed his elbow on the button to open the heavy doors and threw his sidearm to Bucky. Bucky grabbed it out of the air and was ready to fire between one heartbeat and the next. Steve pushed against the heavy storage boxes lining the middle shelf in the carriage that the Hydra soldier was hiding behind, sending them careening along the shelf and off the other end. The Hydra solider jumped out of the way, right into the path of Bucky's well-aimed bullet. He went down, clearly dead.

Steve hauled Bucky to his feet, nearly sick with relief that his lover was still whole and alive.

"I had him on the ropes," Bucky said.

Steve grinned at the inside joke. "I know you did."

In the next instant the doors on the other carriage blasted open and the huge Hydra juggernaut that Steve thought he'd already taken down was right there and aiming his cannon at them. Steve immediately stepped in front of Bucky, shield up.

The blast hit him dead centre and ricocheted, blowing out one side of the train car while the impact threw him into the other. It took only a moment for him to come to, but by that time it was too late. Bucky was holding Steve's shield, guarding himself with it as he shot at the Hydra soldier. But he wasn't braced well and the angle was wrong, and as Steve watched in horror, the next blast from the cannon blew Bucky out the side of the train.

Steve took down the Hydra juggernaut and then climbed out onto what was left of the train wall, reaching for Bucky. "Bucky!" he screamed. "Hold on!"

He was too late. Bucky's eyes widened in alarm, as wide and blue as a winter sky as the railing he gripped so desperately broke. Bucky fell into the void…

Steve gasped awake, heart pounding in terror. It took him a second to realize he wasn't alone in his bed. Bucky was with him, sleeping contentedly in his arms.

Bucky's hair was longer, and he had a beard, but Steve _knew_ it was him. He knew the feel of Bucky's skin against his own, the weight of Bucky's body against his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat under Steve's hand.

"God, Bucky," Steve said against Bucky's hair. "I dreamt…I dreamt you _died._ " 

"S'okay," Bucky slurred, obviously still mostly asleep. "S'okay Stevie, I'm fine."

"I love you, Buck," Steve said, still caught in the horror of his nightmare. "I love you."

"Love you too, Stevie," Bucky murmured. "Go back ta sleep."

Obligingly, Steve closed his eyes, and somehow managed to fall asleep again.

When he next awoke, he was alone. "Bucky?" he called, then shook his head. He'd dreamt that. Something about a train and a man who fell. A man with the most incredible blue eyes…

Steve's own eyes widened in shock. That wasn't a dream, that was a _memory._ A memory of when his lover, Sergeant James Barnes, fell off the train in the Alps when they'd gone to capture Dr. Arnim Zola, chief science officer for Hydra.

He'd woken, terrified and heartbroken and _so_ _fucking grateful_ that Bucky had been with him, lying in his arms, somehow in the future and most definitely not dead.

Only the man in his arms had been Zev Barnal, former Winter Solider, and certainly not another Howling Commando who'd managed to survive to the twenty- first century.

Unless his subconscious knew something that his conscious brain _didn't_.

Steve got up, padded to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water, mind swimming with the vestiges of his dream and the memories it had unleashed. It was all coming back to him: The hospital; joining the Howlies; receiving the serum; meeting Bucky…

He put the glass down slowly on the counter, a terrible feeling of dread curdling in his stomach.

There was a note waiting for him on the kitchen counter, letting him know that his lover had needed to leave early to meet Natasha for sparring.

 _Have a great day!_ It said. There was a hand-drawn heart and it was signed with the name _Zev_.

Steve crumpled the note in his hand.

* * *

"We need to talk."

Bucky looked up from where he'd been about to put another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. After decades being Hydra's prisoner and being fed through tubes while in cryo, he couldn't believe how good something as simple as Cheerios could taste. He raised his eyebrows at the person interrupting his breakfast. "Tony?"

Tony was glaring at him, his normally soft brown eyes were hard and dark like obsidian. He was holding a manila folder in one hand and the mere sight of it made Bucky's heart kick up a notch. "We need to talk," he said again. "Now."

"Okay." Bucky put his spoon down and wiped his mouth on his napkin before standing and putting his bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter. Tony followed him every step of the way, like he thought Bucky was going to bolt any second.

Not that Bucky didn't want to. Everything about Tony was screaming _danger!_ and Bucky's whole body was sounding the alarm. He couldn't help but flash back to being with his Hydra handlers and they way they'd punish him….

He shook it off, forcing himself to breathe deeply like the Wakandan psychologists had taught him. He was safe here. Even if Tony was mad at him, he wasn't going to be punished. Everything was going to be fine.

He was able to hold onto that thought right until he and Tony went into an empty meeting room and Tony closed and locked the door.

"FRIDAY," Tony said to the A.I. in the ceiling, "turn off all recording. I need this to be hella private."

"Yessir," the A.I. responded in her calm Irish-accented tones.

Tony turned to him, eyes blazing. "I know who you are, _James._ "

Bucky's heart lurched painfully in his chest. For a moment he couldn't remember how to move air into his lungs. "How?" He whispered. It didn't even occur to him to deny it.

"Steve, you know, that guy you're banging on the regular?" Tony snarled, "He thought you seemed familiar and he asked me to look into who it was that Fury et al had actually put on the team. Turns out that SHIELD are the lying liars that we know and hate. But you already knew that, didn't you? _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes._ "

Bucky picked up the file with numb fingers and started flipping through it. It was all there. Information on his time with the Howling Commandos, falling off the train, being found by Hydra and brainwashed for over seventy years, his time in Wakanda and then joining the Avengers. Everything he'd been trying to hide from Steve wrapped up in a neat little package. He put it back down, feeling sick. He looked at Tony, feeling as bleak and helpless as he'd ever been under Hydra. _Turns out I'm not safe after all_. "What are you going to do?"

"Me?" That seemed to bring Tony up short. "I'm not going to do anything. You're going to tell Steve that you've been lying to him for months and then he'll decide what he's going to do. Not me."

Bucky felt a small glimmer of hope. "You're not going to tell him?"

Stark's expression hardened. "Not unless you _don't._ "

The hope immediately dissipated. Of course Tony would expect Bucky to tell him. It probably didn't make any sense to Tony why Bucky had kept it from Steve, let alone the entire team. Bucky sat heavily into one of the room's chairs, feeling like his legs could no longer support him.

His relationship with Steve was over. There was no way it could survive Bucky telling Steve who he really was. Not after everything that had happened. Even if Steve couldn't remember what had actually occurred, there was no way Bucky could keep it from him now. Not when it was all in the file that Tony had handed him. He had been so stupid to think that he deserved any happiness with Steve. Especially not when their whole relationship was built on lies. He put his head in his hands.

He heard Tony take one of the conference chairs beside him. "What the fuck is this, James? Why have you been lying about this at all?"

Bucky raised his head, feeling every second of his 101 years on the planet. "I don't deserve Steve," he said simply. "I never have."

"Not if you're lying to him about _everything_ you don't!" Tony agreed with vehemence. "Don't you understand how hard it's been on Steve to not remember anything? Don't you think it might be a little _important_ for him to know that you knew him from before?"

"I wanted to tell him," Bucky said honestly. He'd been meaning to tell him ever since they'd gotten together in decon.

"But you haven't," Tony finished for him. "Why the hell not?"

Bucky scrubbed his face. "It never seemed like the right time—"

"Bullshit." Tony spat. "There's never a right time for these conversations. What's the real reason?"

Bucky's head dropped again. "Because I don't deserve him," he said again. He didn't know how to make it clearer than that.

"But Steve already knows you were the Winter Soldier. He knows you were tortured and brainwashed. He _knows_ it wasn't really you who was in control."

Bucky grimaced. "I nearly beat him to death on the helicarrier. I shot him. _Twice._ I did that. _Me._ "

"But he _knows_ that!" Tony threw up his hands in violent exasperation. "And he's already forgiven you!"

"No. He's forgiven _Zev Barnel_ ," Bucky snapped. "Not _me_."

Tony blinked. "And that's why you don't want Steve to remember?"

Bucky nodded; throat tight. Maybe Steve would accept Zev Barnel being brainwashed into the Winter Soldier, but there was no way that he'd accept the same thing happening to James Barnes. Not after everything. "I should've been stronger."

"Stronger?" Tony demanded, incredulous. "Than being tortured? And brainwashed? Are you serious?"

"That's the type of man Steve deserves," Bucky said. "Not me."

"That's total bullshit if I ever heard it," Tony said. "And I'm sure that Steve would agree with me. You really need to talk to him."

"I'll lose him." Bucky said. His words came out more like a whimper.

"I don't think you're right," Tony said. "But I know for sure you will lose him if you keep lying." He took a breath, rubbing his mouth. "Look, Zev. James. You're a good guy. You've been great for the team and Steve loves you like, eleventy. But, you can't keep doing this to him. You've got 48 hours to tell him, or I will." He got up and left.

Bucky sat in the conference room, too devastated to even cry. His relationship with Steve was over. It didn't matter if he told Steve or Tony did. Steve would hear the truth, and what Bucky had done was unforgivable. He didn't deserve Steve, he never had. Tony was right: he had been living a lie, but not only because he'd lied to Steve. Bucky had also lied to himself.

 _I need to leave,_ he thought. He'd do the right thing and tell Steve, then he'd go. Maybe the Wakandans would take him back. At least he was good with the goats.

He stood, heart heavy and aching in his chest. He and Steve had plans for tonight. It would be as good a time as any to tell him the truth. But first he'd go back to his apartment and pack.

His phone vibrated with the particular rhythm used to announce missions and Bucky was instantly alert. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, already heading towards the elevator and the locker rooms. There was a briefing scheduled in the next ten minutes. Another Hydra base had been found in Sokovia. The Avengers were going to go shut it down.

Bucky smiled grimly to himself, pleased for the small reprieve. If he was lucky Hydra would kill him in the fighting and he'd never have to tell Steve anything.

* * *

Steve was still shaking with rage by the time he got out of the shower.

Bucky had lied to him. _He'd lied_. He'd let Steve think that they'd met for the first time on the bridge when the Winter Soldier had tried to kill him. Even after he'd joined the Avengers, Bucky still had let Steve think that that encounter was the entirety of their past relationship. The fact that they'd known each other during the War had been conveniently left out.

The fact that they'd been _lovers_ had also apparently not been important enough to mention.

Steve was seething as he dried his hair and got dressed. Bucky _knew_ that Steve hadn't remembered anything of his past, and yet he'd chosen to keep their mutual history a secret. Instead of telling Steve what he knew about their lives together, he'd purposely kept silent. He'd denied Steve knowledge about himself.

Their relationship was over. And that was the worst part. Steve had fallen in love with Bucky. Well, _fallen back in love_ was probably more accurate, since they'd already been in love once upon a time. But it would be impossible for them to be together now. Not when Steve knew Bucky had lied to him.

"I want him off the team," Steve muttered to himself. He knew that Fury wouldn't like it, but he'd be damned if he spent one more day with Bucky as an Avenger. He needed a team that he could trust, and right now Bucky certainly didn't qualify.

He grabbed his phone off his bedside table, ready to call Fury that second, when his phone buzzed and the _alert_ message flashed on the screen. An active Hydra base had been discovered in Sokovia and the Avengers were being sent to deal with it.

Steve grit his teeth. He pulled on his shoes and headed to the locker room to grab his uniform.

Getting rid of the White Wolf would have to wait.

* * *

Steve was angry at him.

Bucky didn't know what was going on, but he could tell that something had changed between him and Steve making love the night before and the call to assemble that morning. He wanted to ask Stark about it, but there wasn't a way to do that privately on the crowded Quinjet. Besides, Tony had promised him 48 hours before he told Steve what he knew, and barely four had passed since they'd had that conversation. Tony may not like him right now, but he played fair. He would've told Bucky if Steve already knew.

And yet, Steve was furious. He was giving Bucky a shoulder so cold it was like he was back in cryo. He'd sat as far away from Bucky as possible during Fury's debrief, and then again when they were on the Quinjet. The few times that Bucky had tried to engage him he'd been met with uncomfortable silence and barely any eye contact.

It was like Steve had turned into someone he didn't know overnight.

It was almost a relief to arrive in Sokovia and have to prepare to engage Hydra. At least then Bucky knew where the enemy was and why they were fighting.

Steve's pep talk on the Quinjet was short and to the point. "Get in, rescue the prisoners, try to recover as much data as possible and treat the Hydra agents with extreme prejudice." It was a speech Bucky could totally get behind. He was in the mood to bust some heads.

Normally, Steve would make a joke about not getting blood on his white uniform, or pull him aside for a quick kiss for luck, but not this time. As the other Avengers filed off the Quinjet, Steve grabbed Bucky by the arm. "I know who you are, _Bucky_ ," he hissed. "When this is over, you're going to tell me exactly why you lied to my face. And then you're packing your shit and getting out of my life." He pushed Bucky away from him and stalked out.

Bucky felt all the blood drain from his face, leaving him nearly as pale as his uniform. Steve knew. He _knew_ what Bucky had done. And just as Bucky had feared, Steve hated him. Bucky looked down, almost expecting to see blood seeping through his uniform. It hurt as much as if he'd been stabbed.

Bucky took a deep breath, and then another, trying to get the guilt, remorse and misery spinning in his head to stop. He had a mission. Personal stuff would have to wait until Hydra had been dealt with. He forced his shoulders back and stepped out of the Quinjet into the pale light of the Sokovian forest. His eyes immediately went to Steve, standing tall and proud and almost heartbreakingly handsome in his dark blue uniform. Steve caught his eye and then pointedly turned his back.

* * *

The Hydra base was located in an ancient castle situated on a hill overlooking the city of _Novi Grad_. It meant that when the base went up in flames, all the townspeople came out to gawk at the destruction.

Which put them right in the path of the large, dangerously fast and incredibly strong robots that Hydra had let loose against the civilian population.

The robots' attack forced the _Avengers_ to split their attention between saving the civilians and destroying the Hydra base. Strategically, it was a brilliant distraction.

And Steve was distracted enough already. 

His rage at Bucky was incandescent. It made his punches wide; his strikes sloppy. He was lucky he had his super strength because otherwise he'd be doing a lot less damage to the Hydra robots than he already was. _Hell_ , he thought as he took off another robot's head with the edge of his shield, _I'd probably already be dead._

Not that he'd mind, really.

He tried to shake off the thought as he threw himself into the air and landed a kick to a robot's spine. But it was there, lodged deep into his psyche, somewhere where his anger couldn't touch it.

It was the same feeling he'd had ever since he'd woken up, memoryless and alone on a fake military cot in SHIELD headquarters: a terrible weariness that permeated to his very core, sapping the life out of him.

 _He didn't want to be alive._ He knew that now. He knew that it was the reason he'd refused to fight against the Winter Soldier on the helicarrier, that it might have been the real reason why he'd never asked Tony for help when everything was literally going down. He wanted to die.

Steve gave an inarticulate cry and smashed his fist through a robot's chest, then split a second one in half with the edge of his shield. Even when he'd had no memories, he'd been mourning Bucky. It had just been a sadness so deep that he hadn't understood it. He'd just known that it was too much for him to bear. Finding Bucky again after all this time had been the best kind of miracle. Losing him again was a nightmare.

Only this time Steve didn't know if he'd ever come out of it.

 _You don't have time for this!_ Steve yanked his head back to the battlefield. He took in the swarm of robots fighting his team, how Tony and Sam were both involved in dogfights but apparently holding their own. Natasha was with Hulk, safe and sound as he smashed anything that got even close. Clint was helping the twins that they'd rescued from the Hydra base. A superpowered boy and girl who Hydra was apparently trying to turn like they'd done to Bucky. Luckily, it'd failed, because the boy was incredibly fast and the girl could flatten buildings just by moving her fingers. He'd hate to imagine what it would've been like to have to try to fight them, as well. 

Suddenly, a woman landed out of nowhere and slammed her hand into the ground. Streaks of translucent red light erupted around her, blasting every robot still moving. In seconds they were smoldering wrecks, barely twitching.

And just like that, the battle was over.

Steve slowly turned in a circle, taking in the scene of destruction before him. Robot corpses were everywhere, strewn throughout the rubble of the smashed buildings and overturned vehicles. It looked like a bomb had gone off in downtown Novi Grad and the androids were the shrapnel. He took off his helmet and scraped his damp bangs off his forehead with the back of one gloved hand.

Tony's voice crackled in his ear. "What just happened?"

"We won," Steve breathed.

"All right! Good job guys," Tony said. "Let's just not come in tomorrow."

Steve smirked at Tony's words, but he couldn't help the feeling that something was terribly wrong. "Avengers, roll call."

"Right above you, Cap." Steve looked up to see as Sam landed beside him. Sam pushed his goggles to the top of his head and grinned. His eyes were surrounded by circles of skin lighter than his grime-covered face.

Steve clapped him on the back. "Good to see you." He was immediately looking past Sam into the destroyed city beyond. There was still no sign of Bucky.

"Glad to be here," Sam said. "Those robots were tough!"

"They were no match for whomever that girl is and her freaky red lights of doom," Tony said as he came to a landing beside Sam. His armour showed definite signs of combat but looked intact.

"Hulk and I are on our way," Natasha said over the comms. "There in five."

"Here, with two new recruits. But I think you've already met Wanda." Clint appeared from behind half a wall of rubble, leading a young man who looked similar enough to the woman in red that Steve immediately knew that they must have been the twins that Clint had said he'd found among Hydra's prisoners.

They both looked shocked and determined and also terribly young. They reminded Steve of the resistance fighters he'd met in France during the war, and he just managed to stop himself from wincing. "Welcome," he said instead. "Thank you for helping us."

"Novi Grad is our home," Wanda said, her Sokovian accent flavouring her English. "We could do nothing less."

Steve nodded, but his thoughts were immediately elsewhere. Steve was still angry at Bucky, he was still unsure how he'd even be able to look him in the eye, but none of that stopped the powerful squeeze of fear on his heart. He tapped his comm. "Bucky, report."

Sam looked at him. "Who the hell is Bucky?"

Tony's visor opened; his brown eyes full of concern. "Cap?"

Steve shushed him with a movement of his hand. His heart was pounding now, a sick feeling of dread churning with the rage he'd been feeling all morning. "Bucky, Report!"

"I'm here."

Steve turned at the sound of Bucky's voice. All the colour drained from his face.

"Oh shit," Tony whispered.

Bucky was standing a few feet away from the group of Avengers. His hair hung limply around his shoulders and his blue eyes were dull with pain. "I'm so sorry, Stevie," he said. Blood welled up between the fingers of his gloved hand where it pressed against his stomach. The entire abdomen of his white uniform was stained with blood.

* * *

Steve didn't remember the flight home.

His team had gotten Bucky back onto the Quinjet, back to Avengers' Tower and then into the medical suite without him having to do much of anything.

Which probably was for the best, considering he hadn't had anything like a coherent thought since Bucky had appeared on the battlefield, covered in blood.

Steve felt numb. His head was spinning and he felt too light and strangely disconnected, like his body wasn't quite his own. His emotions were a pinball inside him, careening from one extreme to another. Bucky had betrayed him. Bucky might die.

He'd managed to take off his uniform, take a shower and get dressed again before he'd just collapsed onto his bed, hands crossed on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling, which was deeply shadowed in the darkening room.

It had only been that morning that he'd woken up with all his memories. He hadn't had nearly enough time to process that, let alone everything that Bucky hadn't told him. The enormity of it felt a weight on his chest, crushing him. _Bucky had betrayed him. Bucky might die._

He thought about the crimson stain on Bucky's abdomen, his fingertips pressing into his stomach where he'd seen the blood discolouring Bucky's uniform. He thought about the pain he'd seen in Bucky's eyes.

He'd said "I'm sorry Stevie," before he'd passed out. Was that sorry for lying or for dying? Steve didn't know if he'd ever find out.

 _I should go to the infirmary._ He thought. _Find out how Bucky's doing._

He didn't move.

The weight on his chest felt like it was getting heavier, pressing harder into his ribs until he couldn't breathe.

It was like when he was a skinny kid in Brooklyn, suffering from an asthma attack, or trying to survive yet another bout of pneumonia in the winter. Or that last autumn in the sanitorium, when every breath brought with it a spray of blood…

Steve curled onto his side, pulled his legs up and squeezed his eyes shut against the torrent of memories that were surfacing all at once. _Getting beaten by Joey Malone when he was eight, newspapers in his shoes to try to make them fit. His mother's face, pale like paper as her breath rattled in her lungs._ "Sarah," Steve said. "Her name was Sarah."

And she was dead. She'd died when he was twenty-one.

The grief roared through him, as fresh and raw as the day he'd lost her. Steve sobbed into his pillow, chest aching with the pain of her loss. But the pain didn't stop there.

His memory flared to life. He remembered everything: Dr. Erskine and how frightened Steve was of the procedure, but how determined he was to see it through. The pain of his body being remade. The joy of meeting the other Howling Commandos and Bucky. Falling in love with Bucky.

Bucky falling off the train and all Steve could do was watch the man he loved tumble hundreds of feet to his death. Flying the Red Skull's plane into the water, and the hollow feeling of relief that the pain would finally be over…

But the pain wasn't over. He hadn't died in the ice the way he meant to. He'd woken up, amnesiac and alone in a world that wasn't his and made no sense. Maybe his memory loss had been a vain attempt to protect himself from the devastation of Bucky's death. But it hadn't worked.

And now he was losing Bucky again, and the pain was more than he could bear. _Bucky betrayed him. Bucky might die._

Steve pressed his fists to his temples as he screamed.

* * *

Coming awake was like dragging himself through a long, dark tunnel on his hands and knees.

Bucky blinked, then blinked again before finally realizing that the garden he was looking at wasn't part of a dream but a mural someone had painted on the ceiling.

"Like that?" A woman's voice asked. "Mr. Stark had artwork painted onto the ceiling of every patient room in the hospital. It gives the patients something to look at."

Bucky's head turned towards the voice. "Its nice." The words creaked in his mouth, dry and raspy.

"I'm Doctor Helen Cho," the woman said. She was small, with glossy black hair pulled into a loose bun. Her lab coat had 'Avengers Medical' embroidered on her left breast, with a series of symbols underneath it that Bucky knew represented each Avenger. It included his wolf's paw logo, white with a black outline.

Dr. Cho did something with the side of the bed and it lifted without Bucky having to do anything. "I bet you're thirsty." She held a cup by his lips, topped with a straw and he sipped. The water was cool and wet and the best thing he'd ever tasted. He drank almost half before she gently disengaged it from his mouth.

"Careful," she said. "Too much water after all this time might make you sick."

That sounded somewhat ominous. "Time?" Bucky repeated. His voice sounded much closer to normal. 

"You've been unconscious for three weeks," Dr. Cho said. "Your catastrophic injuries combined with your extensive blood loss made it imperative that we kept you sedated and as calm as possible to maximize your enhanced healing." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Luckily it worked."

That sounded even more ominous, and the ominousness was reflected by the many tubes and wires that were attached to his body. Although he couldn't identify any pain, which was a plus. "Injuries?"

"You were shot. Twice. The bullets entered your back and one of the came out your abdomen. They both did a lot of damage."

Bucky swallowed. "Oh."

"You're lucky that you're a super-soldier, because either one of those wounds would have been fatal otherwise." She said it really matter-of-factly, which just seemed to underscore how close Bucky had come to a messy death.

Which reminded him. "Is everyone else okay?" He had a vague memory of seeing Steve looking at him with shock, but he didn't quite have a context for it. But waking up here was much nicer than coming out of cyro had ever been. At least he had a bit of recall about what had happened the moments before he passed out.

She nodded with relieving immediacy. "Yes, all the other Avengers are fine. You were the only one who got hurt. Novi Grad didn't do so well though, and I think the Avengers might have gone out for a few other missions while you've been recovering, but no one else has come to see me for anything more than stitches, so yes, they're okay."

"That's good," Bucky said. He looked around the room, taking in the small details. Like the 'get well soon' cards and a potted plant left on the windowsill; clear signs that he hadn't been forgotten while he was asleep. He also noticed that there was a comfortable-looking armchair leaning up against the wall. It looked big enough for a certain blond super soldier to rest in while he was waiting for his boyfriend to recover. The thought made Bucky smile. "Was Steve here?"

"Steve?" Dr. Cho's forehead wrinkled. "Oh! You mean Captain America." She paused, thinking. "No, he hasn't been here while I've been on-shift. I could ask the other doctor?"

Something hard and cold formed in Bucky's stomach. "He didn't come by?"

"No, Zev, I don't think he did. But I'm going to let him and the others know that you're awake and ready for visitors." She smiled and left the room.

 _Zev._ The memory of his last interaction with Steve came immediately to mind. He remembered Steve grabbing his arm, the rage reflected in his blue eyes. The way his teeth flashed when he told Bucky that he wanted him out of his life.

And clearly, he'd meant it, too, if he hadn't come to visit when Bucky was in hospital.

Despair washed over him, so thick he felt like he couldn't breathe. An alarm went off and suddenly Dr. Cho was leaning over him, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"Zev? What's wrong?"

"It's Bucky," he managed to choke out through a throat gone thick with tears. "Call me that. Please." There was no point hiding who he was anymore. Not that he'd destroyed everything he'd ever had with Steve.

He wished the bullets had killed him.

* * *

The door chimed.

"Mister Barton has requested entrance," JARVIS said in his modulated tones.

"Tell him to go away." Steve didn't move from where he was curled on his bed.

"He is quite insistent, sir. He claims he will contact Mister Stark if you do not let him in."

"Tell him to go away."

There was a pause. "Mister Barton has left."

Steve sighed with relief. He didn't want to see any of the other Avengers. It was hard enough having to appear like everything was fine when they were called out on missions. Then he was all strategic commander 'man with a plan', avoiding any conversation that didn't relate directly to their objective. It'd taken a couple of weeks but his team had finally figured out that he wanted to be left alone.

And he really, really didn't want to talk about Bucky.

The ceiling creaked.

Steve was on his feet in an instant, shield up and ready.

A tile moved to the side and Clint dropped down beside Steve's bed, sticking his landing like a gymnast.

Steve lowered his shield. "I thought I told you to go away."

"I guess my hearing aids aren't working." Clint grinned at him before his smile faltered. "You okay?"

 _No, I'm not okay,_ Steve thought. "I'm fine," he said instead. "I just don't want company."

"You look like you've been crying," Clint said. "And maybe sleeping in your clothes?"

Steve just stopped himself from looking down at his wrinkled T-shirt and jeans. It was the same outfit he'd put on three days ago after taking off his uniform. "I'm fine," Steve repeated. His hand tightened on the grip of his shield.

Clint's eyes narrowed, like he was considering the validity of Steve's statement and found it wanting. "You haven't been to see Zev," he said.

Hearing the name felt like a blow to Steve's solar plexus. "His name's not Zev," he hissed before he could stop himself. "He's been lying to you. To _all_ of us."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Lying? What?"

"His real name is James Buchanan Barnes, but we all called him Bucky. He used to be a Howling Commando until he fell off a train and we all thought he was dead. He's actually one of the men I served with in World War Two."

"Oh," Clint said. He sat on Steve's bed. "Well, that's interesting."

"'Interesting?" Steve's temper kicked up a notch. "I just told you he's been lying to you the entire time you've known him, and you think that's _interesting?_ What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Loads," Clint said affably. "Why, should I be mad that Zev—Bucky lied?"

"Of course, you should be mad!" Steve shouted. "You should be mad as hell that he's been lying!"

"Huh," Clint sat for a moment. "Nope. Not getting it. Why is it a big deal that he lied about his name?"

"Don't you care?"

"I know a lot of people who go by a lot of names," Clint said. "Myself included."

"It wasn't just his name!" Steve seethed. "He lied about being part of the Howling Commandos! He lied about that!"

Clint stood up. "Wait, has your memory come back?"

"Yes." Steve's jaw tightened. "I remember everything."

"That's amazing! Steve! You must be so happy!" Steve glared at him. "Or not. Definitely not happy."

"How do you think I knew that Bucky was lying?"

"Oh. Yeah, I get it now. Bucky didn't tell you he knew you from before when it would've helped with your memories," Clint said. "No wonder you're pissed." 

"Yes!" Steve exclaimed, glad that Clint was finally understanding. "He lied to me! He didn't tell me _anything_ about who I was. He let me believe that we'd never met before and yet we had a whole history together. _How could he do that to me?"_ Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He didn't want to start crying again, and certainly not in front of Clint.

"I don't know," Clint said. "I don't have a clue why he would do that."

"Well, that makes two of us," Steve said.

"Is that why you haven't gone to visit him?" Clint asked. "Because he lied?"

It was more than that. The blazing anger Steve had been feeling since he'd found out about Bucky's betrayal was overlaid by a sick fear that Bucky was going to die. Again. He wasn't sure what was worse. Both things had kept him away from the medical suite. Steve swallowed. "Yes."

"But it's been three weeks."

A muscle worked in Steve's jaw. "I know."

"He's woken up," Clint said. "That's what I actually came here to tell you. You know, since you haven't gone to visit."

Steve's stomach twisted at the reminder. "I knew he was awake. Just because I don't want anything to do with him doesn't mean I didn't want to _know._ Doctor Cho's been sending me updates." And Steve had been pestering her with emails and texts for any scrap of information she could give him, but Clint didn't need to know that. 

"Okay," Clint said.

Steve looked at Clint. "Okay?"

"Sure." Clint shrugged. "I'm not going to force you to see your boyfriend if you don't want to."

Steve blinked. He hadn't expected Clint to acquiesce so quickly. Maybe part of him hadn't actually wanted Clint to. "You're not going to tell me to go?"

"Well, if it were me, and the person I loved most in the world lied to me like that, I'd definitely want to know why before kicking them to the curb," Clint said easily. "But I'm not you, and maybe you like living with uncertainty."

"How could he possibly have a good reason for lying to me?" Steve raged. "He betrayed me! That's all there is to it!"

"Maybe," Clint said. "But that would mean that he's been intending to hurt you like this from the moment he met you. And that just seems weird, you know?" He shrugged again. "Like, in that movie we all watched. That guy Gus lied to Emily, and it was stupid, but he had a reason for it, even if it was messed up. Maybe Bucky did too."

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again. He couldn't actually argue with Clint's logic. If Bucky had really wanted to hurt Steve, there were a hundred different ways he could've done it that didn't involve them sleeping together. Hell, Bucky had barely spoken to him for the first six weeks he was on the team, which had hurt Steve plenty. Malicious intent really didn't make sense.

And it also didn't fit what Steve knew of Bucky, and the way Bucky had treated him the whole time they were going out. Bucky was kind and conscientious, respectful and considerate. In fact, if he'd never gotten his memories back, Steve would have had no complaints at all.

And, if he was being totally honest with himself, he'd even told Bucky they were going to talk about it the morning he'd recovered his memories. But that was before Bucky had been shot and had nearly died in front of Steve's eyes.

_Bucky was looking up at him, blue eyes wide with fear. Steve reached for him, fingertips barely brushing against Bucky's before the railing Bucky was gripping broke and Bucky fell…_

Steve dropped his shield before sitting heavily on the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. "He almost died, Clint," Steve's voice broke. "He almost died and I couldn't save him." He didn't know which time he meant.

Clint's hand landed on his shoulder with a comforting weight. "Seeing someone you love get injured is a total bitch. Hell, Natasha only needed stiches from the last mission we were on and it still drove me crazy to see her hurt. There's nothing worse."

"He lied to me," Steve said, tears pooling in his eyes. "He lied to me, and then he almost died and I hate him so much and I'm so scared and I don't know what to do."

"Go talk to him," Clint said softly. "He'll either exonerate himself, or he won't. But either way you'll know enough to figure it out."

That made a lot of sense, actually. He could see Bucky, and suddenly it was all he could think about. "I really want to see him."

"That sounds like a really good idea," Clint said. "But you might want to take a shower first."

* * *

It was painful to walk.

Bucky grimaced as he slowly circumnavigated the room, feeling the aching pull in his torso with each step.

Dr. Cho told him that he was healing exceptionally well, but that the bullets had done a lot of damage. They'd left almost no internal organs intact, and while his enhanced healing was dealing with the injury, it was still going to take time for him to be good as new.

Until then he'd be limping along like he'd actually lived every one of his 101 years.

The door opened behind him with it's ultra-modern _woosh_ of air. "Almost done," Bucky said with a wince. "And then I'll get to the leg exercises. I swear."

"I'm sure you will," Steve said.

Bucky whirled so fast that he nearly fell over. Only Steve's hands under his arms prevented him from falling gracelessly on his ass. Steve helped him to the chair by the wall and Bucky sat down. His heart was pounding like he'd run a marathon in double time. He said the first thing that came to mind. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Steve winced. "I've been really angry."

Bucky nodded. "I figured." He licked his lips. "But you're not angry now?"

"I'm furious, actually." Steve looked towards the window, out to the cityscape beyond. "I nearly didn't come at all."

There was nothing Bucky could say to that. He looked down at his scrub pants, as white as his uniform. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Steve glared at him. " _Sorry?"_ You think that's good enough for how you've been _lying_ to me? How you kept the truth from me for _months?_ You think—" He broke off and ran his hands through his hair.

"No," Bucky said honestly. "It's not good enough. Nothing will be good enough. Hell, _I'm_ not good enough. But sorry's all I have."

"You're damn right it's not good enough! I _trusted_ you! With everything I had. How could you do this to me?"

It was time to come clean. Bucky took a deep breath, stealing himself for the conversation. Willing the words to come out of his mouth when all he wanted to do was run and hide. For the first time since Steve had broken Hydra's hold on him, he wished he could get his mind wiped so he'd never have to be reminded of what he'd done. Of how he'd failed the only man he'd ever love. "Because I let you down. Because I let Hydra fuck me up and I never fought back. Because you deserved so much better than a man like me, but I was too selfish to keep myself away from you. I'm not good enough for you, Steve. I never was." He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the look of disgust that would mar Steve's perfect features.

"Wait," Steve said. "What?"

Bucky opened his eyes. Instead of disgust, Steve's features were painted with confusion. "I let Hydra turn me," Bucky tried again. "They captured me and brainwashed me and I let them do it. I didn't even try to stop them. Only a weakling would let that happen to them. A failure. And I…I guess I didn't want you to know what I'd done."

Steve still looked confused. "But you wanted me to believe that it happened to Zev?"

"Yes!" Bucky lurched to his feet, holding back the small yelp of pain. " _Zev_ wasn't _James_. _Zev_ wasn't the man that you trusted with your life in World War Two! _Zev_ wasn't the man that you counted on in the middle of a fucking war, _James_ was! _And James wasn't good enough for you!_ "

Steve blinked. "You lied to me so I wouldn't know that it was _James_ —that it was you—who'd been turned into the Winter Soldier?"

"I nearly beat you to death. The man that loved you more than his own life. The man that pledged himself to you…." Bucky's voice cracked on the next word. "How could I let that happen to me?" He swiped angrily at the tears coursing down his cheeks.

"Oh my God," Steve breathed. In the next instant he had Bucky wrapped in his arms, Bucky's head against his shoulder. "This whole time? You've been afraid to tell me?"

"Yes," Bucky wept, hands desperately clutching at Steve's shirt. "I loved—I _love_ —you _so much_ , Steve. I would've died for you. But they took that away. Made me forget. How could they make me forget you? Make me _hurt_ you? Why wasn't I strong enough to fight them? Why wasn't I good enough?"

"They _brainwashed_ you," Steve said against his hair. " _Tortured_ you! Did things—" he shuddered. "It's incredible that you survived at all, Bucky. It's a goddamned miracle."

"I should've fought harder. Done more to stop them. I can't remember the last time I actually fought against the mindwipes. I don't think I did—"

"Shh," Steve cut him off. "Enough, Bucky. You can't think like that. What Hydra did to you was horrible and terrible and nothing that you could've fought off. You can't think like that. You can't."

It was time to tell Steve the final truth. The one thing that he'd been dreading ever since he'd realized he had to tell Steve everything. "You would've. You would've been able to escape from Hydra. Fought their brainwashing. You're so much better than me, Stevie. And that's why I'm not good enough for you. I never was."

Steve moved them so that he was looking into Bucky's face. "That's bullshit."

"No," Bucky protested immediately. "You were the best of all of us. The bravest, the strongest in body and spirit. There's no way Hydra could've done that to you."

"That's incredibly flattering that you think so." Steve smiled, "but it's not true. I would've succumbed like you did. Maybe sooner."

"You can't say that! You're a fighter! For sure you would've—"

"No," Steve interrupted. "I wouldn't've. And I can prove it."

Bucky's mind spun at Steve's words. He didn't believe it, he couldn't. And yet he knew that Steve wouldn't lie.

Gently, Steve helped Bucky sit back down. "Do you remember when you met me?"

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, looking up at where Steve was leaning on the edge of Bucky's hospital bed. He couldn't help smiling at the memory. "You were a tiny little guy, all piss and vinegar." He didn't know it at the time, but he'd probably fallen in love with Steve right then.

"It was right before we both underwent 'Project Rebirth'. Remember?"

"Yeah," Bucky said again. "They'd recruited me straight outta basic. They said they wanted me as a candidate because my aim was so good."

"They recruited me straight out of Sea View. Did you know that?"

Bucky stared at him. "The tuberculosis sanitorium? Really?"

"Uh huh." Steve nodded. "I was probably just a few weeks from death at that point. The SSR chose me because I was young and male and dying anyway. If I lived, they'd have another solider for the war effort. If I died? Well, no big loss. That's why I had the treatment before you."

"Holy shit," Bucky breathed. "I knew you were pale and skinny, but I had no idea."

"That I was dying? Yeah, the brass wanted to keep that secret. Didn't want to panic everyone about having a TB patient in their midst."

"But you never told me."

Steve shrugged. "It didn't seem important once it was obvious that the Serum worked. And then we had other things to worry about."

Bucky absorbed that information for a moment, horrified that Steve might've died before they'd ever had a chance to meet. "I'm really glad it worked," he said finally. "But what's that got to do with me being the Winter Soldier?"

"Because I got hit with TB and I couldn't shake it. No matter how strong my spirit was. They're just some things that we can't overcome with will alone. Not tuberculosis, and not Hydra torture." 

"But it's not the same!" Bucky said hotly. "TB is a disease! Hydra's brainwashing was—"

"Something that infected your mind and body," Steve cut him off. "Just like the TB infected me."

Bucky shook his head. "No Steve, you're strong. Stronger than I was. You would've fought it."

"Yeah, I would've. Just like you did. And just like you, I would've eventually lost. Some things you just can't shake."

"It's not the same," Bucky said again. "I'm not as strong as you. Not as _good_ as you. I'm not."

"You think I'm so good, huh?" Steve's eyes snapped with anger. "I'm so strong? How do you think I got frozen in the ice, Bucky? Why do you think I'm here in this godforsaken century? _Because I tried to kill myself, that's why!_ Do you think I'm so goddamned strong now?"

Bucky swallowed, trying to comprehend what he'd just heard. "What?"

Steve stood and raked his fingers through his hair, head down. "I tried to kill myself. I…I thought you were dead, and I couldn't find a reason to keep living after that. So I went into the ice with the _Valkyrie_."

Bucky's mouth opened and closed. He was shocked to his core by Steve's words. His heart pounded in terror at the idea Steve might've been died before they found each other again. He felt sick at how alone Steve must have felt, how hopeless. "Steve?"

"Yes, it's true," Steve answered Bucky's unvoiced question. "I didn't want to live in a world without you in it." His smirk was bitter. "Not a strong as you thought I was, huh?"

Bucky got up and moved to Steve, too upset to feel the pain from his wounds. He put his hand on Steve's shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry you felt that bad."

"I thought you were dead," Steve said, and Bucky could hear the tears in his voice. "You were dead and I was alive, and there was nothing right about that. _Nothing!_ I didn't want to go on. And I know that makes me weak. I know that means I'm a _coward_ but—"

"Hey, no. Don't talk like that," Bucky interrupted. "You're the strongest man I know, Stevie. And if our roles were reversed? If I saw you fall off that train? I don't think I would've wanted to go on, either."

"But you did go on. Even though you were being _tortured_ and frozen and brainwashed for _years_ , you never once gave up. Not once! How can you think I'm stronger than you when I couldn't survive you dying, and you survived _torture_ for decades?"

"Because I couldn't remember anything," Bucky said. "Because they took everything from me. Including my knowledge of what they'd put me through. I didn't even know enough to die."

"Jesus." Steve took Bucky in his arms again. "We're a right pair, aren't we?"

"You're not weak for flying that plane into the ice," Bucky said. "I'll never believe that."

"And you're not weak for succumbing to Hydra's torture," Steve said. "You're one of the best men I know."

"But what about the fact I lied to you? I let you believe I was Zev for so long?"

He felt Steve shrug underneath his arms. "I still don't like it, but it makes sense now, why you would've."

"I promise I'll never lie to you again." Bucky swallowed; face pressed into Steve's neck. "If you think you can forgive me?"

"I forgive you," Steve said, and the rush of relief Bucky felt was so intense that he had to lean on Steve for a moment to regain his balance.

"Thank you," Bucky said.

"I hope you'll forgive me, too," Steve continued. "For not visiting you while you were in the infirmary."

"There's nothing to forgive. I'd done something terrible to you. I get that."

He felt Steve's chuff of laughter. "I'm not sure I agree, but I'll take it."

"Stevie," Bucky said slowly. He didn't want to ask the question but he knew it was important. "Do you still want to die?"

Steve sighed, his whole body resting heavily against Bucky's. "Sometimes. Mostly when I think about losing you."

"You're not gonna lose me, Stevie. I promise. But you know that feeling that way isn't a good thing, right?"

"Yeah," Steve sighed again. "And you know that feeling like you're a failure for being brainwashed by Hydra isn't a good thing, either, right?"

Bucky smirked a little. "Yeah."

"When I first came out of the ice, Phil Coulson suggested I should talk to someone," Steve said. "Maybe I should take him up on that offer."

"Phil…that's Clint's boyfriend, right?" Bucky felt Steve's nod. "Maybe I should ask him to help find someone for me, too."

"Good idea," Steve said. "But maybe in a bit? I'd like to just hold you for a while."

"I'd like that too," Bucky said.

 

END


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